Scaramouche and you had always had a complicated relationship. From the very beginning, there was tension in the air, a spark that turned every conversation into a verbal battle. It was as if everything you said or did was a provocation to him, and vice versa. Scaramouche always watched you with that air of arrogance and superiority, as if he were waiting for you to make a mistake so he could attack.

Today was no exception. The two of you had been paired up for a class project, something that clearly didn't sit well with him, and it showed in the way he sat, arms crossed and a look of disdain on his face. Though he found it difficult to hide his annoyance, you couldn't help but notice something else in his expression. Something he didn't quite seem to understand himself.

It was a dynamic you'd already accepted: he tried to irritate you, and you simply refused to play along. This time, you approached the table, dropping your things softly onto the surface.

"We should start," you said without looking at him, as if working with him was nothing more than a minor inconvenience in your day.

Scaramouche, of course, didn’t miss the chance to respond in his usual biting tone. "Oh, of course, the perfect genius has decided it's time to start. What a surprise..." he scoffed with a mix of sarcasm and disdain, though you already knew his words were crafted to get under your skin.

However, you didn't give him the satisfaction.